Tokyo Station → Fukuoka
I'm a bit behind in my writing as it's been one very full day after another, and a stack of stories and experiences I'll never forget. The next few newsletters I'll release in quick succession to catch up a bit. There's too much to tell in just one.
I was leaving Tokyo, early on Thursday morning. Heading to Fukuoka, the capital of Fukuoka Prefecture and the largest city on Kyushu, the southwestern-most of Japan’s four main islands. I started my day early at Tokyo Station where it's the heat of rush hour. Chaos and choreography. For a moment, entranced by the river of black-haired heads moving in every direction toward train tunnels and platforms. I definitely felt more ant-like than human. Somehow no crashes, no pile‑ups, everything just… works. Kind of amazing.
At the bottom of the escalator that would lift me up onto the platform for my train, an older woman stood, in crisp uniform, diligently cleaning the moving handrail. She held a rag in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. Hold, tick, tick, tick, hold....tick, tick, tick, hold. Hygiene measured. I learned later this woman is part of a very respectable troop of mostly older individuals who keep the station and the trains exceptionally clean. A job that was once seen as quite lowly has been elevated to hold some well deserved reverence.
The Shinkansen (bullet train) raced me down Japan in under 6 hours. That's over 1000km, a distance that would take over 13 hours in a vehicle. The train travels between 200-300km/hr. Sleek, smooth, quiet. The future.
Air, Sky, and Sweat
When I stepped off in Fukuoka, the contrast between Tokyo and Fukuoka was clear. Tokyo can feel relentless and stimulating. Fukuoka felt looser, like a city still at work, but it's Friday.
That first night the sky was strange. Probably just unique weather, but it lit the sky like a birthday. Almost everyone I saw was watching, and like the modern people we are, we were all recording.
I didn't have high hopes for change in the humidity, and like a constant companion it did not disappoint. Still mushimushi (sticky, steamy). My shirt clung to me almost instantly. Everyone else? Crisp, unbothered, heading home from work. I felt embarrassed... why am I the only one dripping? Do they have some trick? I figured out later I could, for the first time in my life, try an undershirt, literally under my t-shirt. At least I looked semi-presentable after that.
Main Drags and Back Alleys
The main drag in Fukuoka is bright, awake, and packed with people. Different than Tokyo though I saw and heard more Korean, Chinese, Indian, and Vietnamese. Fukuoka felt like it had more ingredients in the soup.
Step into a side street and things change pace. One-lane tighter alleys stacked with ramen shops, soba houses, and izakaya glowing with paper lanterns. Cafés tucked in corners. Donut shops with the cutest mascots. It feels endless, like I could live here for years and never eat at the same place twice.
Noticing
Triangular stop signs. Ribbed light poles to keep stickers from sticking. The tops of children’s backpacks curved like little arches. Sink faucets that fill the basin or the bathtub — your choice. A slight bow preferred over the intrusion of konnichiwa (hello) when passing a stranger on the street. Lots of contrasts: remarkable attention to design detail in some corners, and then gaudy, noisy signage shouting at you in others. I keep circling this idea of novelty. I've traveled all over, what is it about Japan's novelty that stirs me in ways other places haven't.
These photos and others I'm collecting in an always updating album here.
